Advent day 26 (2020)

 

 

People of God: prepare!

God, above all, maker of all,

is one with us in Christ.

Maranatha!

Come, Lord Jesus!

God, the mighty God,

bends down in love to earth.

Maranatha!

Come, Lord Jesus!

God with us, God beside us,

comes soon to the world he has made.

Maranatha!

Come, Lord Jesus!

We are God’s children,

we seek the coming Christ.

Maranatha!

Come, Lord Jesus!

 

…we seek the coming Christ.

I wonder what it is that you hope for this Christmas? Perhaps you have had to revise your plans—and your expectations in line with them, refashioning them into something smaller in the hope of not being disappointed. Perhaps you hope for moments of joy, or peace, in the bitter-sweet bustle or boredom.

The Christ is a person, of course, but his coming is an event, and perhaps, even if you won’t be opening your door to far-flung relatives this year you might hope to welcome him. But our prayer goes beyond hoping, to an active searching-out: we seek the coming Christ. And if we might recognise him at some future arrival, we might do well to rehearse our part in his many unheralded arrivals, in rooms behind closed doors. How might you seek the coming Christ, hidden in plain sight, this Christmas? In whose eyes, or voice, might he be found?

 

Advent day 25 (2020)

 

 

People of God: prepare!

God, above all, maker of all,

is one with us in Christ.

Maranatha!

Come, Lord Jesus!

God, the mighty God,

bends down in love to earth.

Maranatha!

Come, Lord Jesus!

God with us, God beside us,

comes soon to the world he has made.

Maranatha!

Come, Lord Jesus!

We are God’s children,

we seek the coming Christ.

Maranatha!

Come, Lord Jesus!

 

God beside us, comes soon…

I had dropped into a local block of sheltered flats to deliver some small gifts, and the manager asked whether there was any possibility that I might organise some spatially distanced carol singing in the carpark, to cheer the residents. We put this morning in the diary. It has dawned the wettest day in days—Carols in the Carpark hastily rechristened Carols with Rain, Dear. Not a good morning to discover that I have left my umbrella behind somewhere, almost certainly at the other church I serve.

Whatever day God comes to us, we are never fully ready. There is never enough time—from our perspective, even as we long for the waiting to end. But that is okay. God doesn’t wait until all is perfect; God comes to make all things right. God beside us, in the mess of our lives, bringing chaos into harmony, making all things well.

 

Update: the rain held off!

 

Advent day 24 (2020)

 

 

People of God: prepare!

God, above all, maker of all,

is one with us in Christ.

Maranatha!

Come, Lord Jesus!

God, the mighty God,

bends down in love to earth.

Maranatha!

Come, Lord Jesus!

God with us, God beside us,

comes soon to the world he has made.

Maranatha!

Come, Lord Jesus!

We are God’s children,

we seek the coming Christ.

Maranatha!

Come, Lord Jesus!

 

God, the mighty God, bends down in love to earth…

To those doctors and nurses bracing themselves for another wave, come, Lord Jesus!

To those teachers and head teachers besides themselves with exhaustion, come, Lord Jesus!

To those families devastated beyond bearing by the loss of a precious one, come, Lord Jesus!

To those living alone and longing for human touch, come, Lord Jesus!

To those who have built a dream into a livelihood only to have to close its doors for good, and those who have served only to be laid off, come, Lord Jesus!

To those who fear what tomorrow brings, come, Lord Jesus!

To those on their knees, bend down, embrace, weep with them, come, Lord Jesus!

 

Advent day 23 (2020)

 

 

People of God: prepare!

God, above all, maker of all,

is one with us in Christ.

Maranatha!

Come, Lord Jesus!

God, the mighty God,

bends down in love to earth.

Maranatha!

Come, Lord Jesus!

God with us, God beside us,

comes soon to the world he has made.

Maranatha!

Come, Lord Jesus!

We are God’s children,

we seek the coming Christ.

Maranatha!

Come, Lord Jesus!

 

God…is one with us in Christ.

On my study wall hangs a large print of the painting Fußwaschung (The Washing of Feet) by Sieger Köder. Depicting Jesus washing Simon Peter’s feet, just hours before his arrest, mockery of a trial, and execution, it doesn’t feel especially Christmassy. And yet I am drawn to the hands—to Peter leaning on Jesus’ shoulder; and the anticipation of Jesus touching Peter’s feet, an anticipation heightened by the fact that we only see Jesus’ face reflected in the water—and to the reality for so many people this year that they have not experienced human touch for many long months. In Christ, the cradled baby, the child, the adult, God is one with us, in touch with us. This year, perhaps more than ever before, we join the Advent longing ‘Maranatha!’ Come, Lord Jesus!

 

Advent day 22 (2020)

 

 

People of God: prepare!

God, above all, maker of all,

is one with us in Christ.

Maranatha!

Come, Lord Jesus!

God, the mighty God,

bends down in love to earth.

Maranatha!

Come, Lord Jesus!

God with us, God beside us,

comes soon to the world he has made.

Maranatha!

Come, Lord Jesus!

We are God’s children,

we seek the coming Christ.

Maranatha!

Come, Lord Jesus!

 

Across the UK, people’s preparations to celebrate Christmas together have been thrown into chaos this weekend. Having been told to prepare for one thing, preparations made, that thing is now prohibited. A sorry tale of vacillation, not vaccination.

In fact, while Advent is a time of preparing to celebrate Christmas, it is primarily a time to prepare ourselves for Christ’s return. A light at the end of a long tunnel. But how on earth do you prepare for something you have no idea when it will arrive? Christ comes for each of us in the hour of our death, to reclaim the divine breath that has animated our clay. To prepare for Christ’s return is, whatever else, to prepare ourselves to meet him then. To die well, not afraid but as a welcome culmination of our whole life. Such preparation is not morbid, but filled with longing.

May you celebrate this Christmas as if it were your last. Not wishing you were somewhere else, but in love’s embrace.

 

Advent day 21 (2020)

 

 

People of God: return!

You are called to be God’s own.

From the mountains announce the good news.

God comes in justice and peace,

to all who follow his ways.

You are God’s children.

Lord, make us one in the peace of Christ

today and for ever.

Amen.

 

Lord, make us one in the peace of Christ today and for ever.

‘Today,’ I think, we understand. But ‘for ever’ is a very long time, extending far beyond what we can possibly imagine. How on earth dare we hope to live in peace for ever? My wife and I have been together for a quarter of a century. Of course, it would be a nonsense to claim that every moment has been harmonious; and yet, our relationship testifies to the reality that we have chosen to live in peace, not enmity. The peace of Christ—the flourishing that Jesus has made possible by overcoming all that opposes such flourishing—is not simply a given (though it is that) but something we must choose to return to, again and again, today, every day, for ever. Moreover, the peace of Christ includes the very possibility of such a return at all: ‘Repent and believe, for the kingdom of God has come near!’

 

Advent day 20 (2020)

 

 

People of God: return!

You are called to be God’s own.

From the mountains announce the good news.

God comes in justice and peace,

to all who follow his ways.

You are God’s children.

Lord, make us one in the peace of Christ

today and for ever.

Amen.

 

…to all who follow his ways…

With a week to go to Christmas, a small army of volunteers has completed the goal of delivering a Comfort and Joy bauble to households and businesses across the whole parish. Some have gone alone; others accompanied by a dog, a friend, a spouse, children, or grandchildren. All on foot, walking the neighbourhood.

Those who would follow God’s ways must travel at God’s pace: and that pace is three miles an hour, at most; walking in step with the slowest member of the party, often the youngest or oldest; stopping frequently for conversations with those who cross our path; yet with a considered determination to keep going until the vision is accomplished.

Keep going. We’re getting there, slowly.

 

Advent day 19 (2020)

 

 

People of God: return!

You are called to be God’s own.

From the mountains announce the good news.

God comes in justice and peace,

to all who follow his ways.

You are God’s children.

Lord, make us one in the peace of Christ

today and for ever.

Amen.

 

…one in the peace of Christ…

We are building up our crib scene at St Nicholas,’ piece by piece. Today I was given charge of the plaster Jesus, to hide away until he makes his appearance. Some of our Christmas carols depict the Christ-child as contentedly embracing his surroundings, and I am sure that there would have been such moments, but—a flesh-and-blood, a lungs-and-vocal-chords baby; not a plaster one—that is only part of the story. The peace of Christ is not dependent on everything being right with the world: rather, it is that peace that makes the world right—that is making the world right, as we choose to follow. Even when he seems hidden.

 

Advent day 18 (2020)

 

 

People of God: return!

You are called to be God’s own.

From the mountains announce the good news.

God comes in justice and peace,

to all who follow his ways.

You are God’s children.

Lord, make us one in the peace of Christ

today and for ever.

Amen.

 

Love, actually is the perfect Christmas film because it is so recognisable. For so many of us, this season is a fraught one, pressure ramped-up by office parties, school concerts, having to choose the perfect gift, the expectation of spending time with relatives you don’t, actually, want to be with. And for many more, a season that, unwelcome, magnifies our day-to-day isolation. Still, the season works it magic on us, bewitching us into believing that a better life is just about to begin—though we know that these will probably look bleak in the stark cold light of January. Yet, despite all this, and avoiding cynicism, we are reminded that sometimes it is when all the trappings that have accrued around Christmas are stripped away, that we discover again what truly matters—and that it might, actually, be all around us.

This year the coronavirus might make for a stripped-back Christmas—though it may well come with its own fraught-ness, and we might need to learn not to hate our neighbours who bring on a third spike by their actions. It might just be our own Love, actually moment. People of God: return!

 

Advent day 17 (2020)

 

 

People of God: return!

You are called to be God’s own.

From the mountains announce the good news.

God comes in justice and peace,

to all who follow his ways.

You are God’s children.

Lord, make us one in the peace of Christ

today and for ever.

Amen.

 

return…follow his ways

Much as I love the green fuzz of the first new leaves of the year, or the glory of their autumn colours, it is in these bare winter months that the trees that line our street are at their most arresting. We tend to think of them as dead, awaiting new life; but they are not. Not dead, but sleeping. The rest of the righteous. God calls, and they follow his ways, returning to rest, returning to awakening, to unfurling and stretching out a canopy, to blossom and to clusters of ripe berries, to letting go. There is neither justice, nor peace, in forcing a plant to produce a harvest all year round.

Might the call to return to God, to follow his ways today, be an invitation to enter into rest—deep, bone marrow satisfying rest?

 

Advent day 16 (2020)

 

 

People of God: return!

You are called to be God’s own.

From the mountains announce the good news.

God comes in justice and peace,

to all who follow his ways.

You are God’s children.

Lord, make us one in the peace of Christ

today and for ever.

Amen.

 

People of God: return!

2020 has truly been a heavy-going year. All three of my teenaged children are struggling with living through a pandemic, and as a parent, I feel utterly helpless—and not a little frustrated. And in response to 2020, many people are looking forward to the time when things will return to normal. Except that they won’t return to how they were; and, in any case, ‘how things were’ was hard enough, for many. The call to return to God is not a longing to return to past times, or places, to how things were; but, rather, a yearning to follow his ways: to find ourselves caught-up in a community of sisters and brothers who are seeking to follow the God who is always on the move (though rarely in a hurry), always birthing a new thing.

 

Advent day 15 (2020)

 

 

People of God: return!

You are called to be God’s own.

From the mountains announce the good news.

God comes in justice and peace,

to all who follow his ways.

You are God’s children.

Lord, make us one in the peace of Christ

today and for ever.

Amen.

 

Today is the Third Sunday of Advent, also known as Guadate Sunday. Its theme is joy; its tone, pink: a lighter, brighter, clearer shade of Advent’s purple. There may be no mountains where I live to announce the good news, but the sky responded to the call, with joy.

In biblical imagery, mountains stand as signs to us, reminders of times when we have met with God, in ways that stretch our ability to describe, yes, but nonetheless are undeniable. In the eyes of our new-born grandchild, perhaps; or the sun rising over the sea. Such memories, and the hope of future memories, are meant to fill us with joy—albeit mixed with reverence, and sometimes even trepidation—joy that strengthens our lungs and our bones, when we are compelled to return, after absence.

 

Advent day 14 (2020)

 

 

People of God: be glad!

Your God delights in you,

giving you joy for sadness

and turning the dark to light.

Be strong in hope therefore;

for your God comes to save.

You are God’s children.

Lord, make us one in the love of Christ

today and for ever.

Amen.

 

Make us one in the love of Christ.

This is the time of year when it is most likely that a jigsaw puzzle will be taken out in our house. Indeed, my wife remakes one particular one each year, an icon of the nativity, for which she holds back several pieces for the Advent calendar boxes on the mantlepiece. And the jigsaw is a beautiful illustration of how God is at work to make us one:

not in uniformity, but in each piece, with its unique shape and colours, finding its fit alongside others, all coming together, patiently, to reveal a harmonious whole, a world of wonder.

‘Make us one in the love of Christ’ is, perhaps, the Advent prayer for every day of our lives, for the reason Jesus came into the world, and will return again, is to reconcile all things. Some days, it looks like a jumbled pile of puzzle pieces, but there is a template, and a goal in view.

 

Advent day 13 (2020)

 

 

People of God: be glad!

Your God delights in you,

giving you joy for sadness

and turning the dark to light.

Be strong in hope therefore;

for your God comes to save.

You are God’s children.

Lord, make us one in the love of Christ

today and for ever.

Amen.

 

God delights in you, a child of God.

Up and down our stairs, you will find photographs of our three children. Individual shots at comparable ages, as babies, pre-schoolers, first day at school. Group images, tracking primary schools, recording a skiing holiday. If you ask, and even if you don’t, I will happily tell you stories of the things they’ve said and done, that have made me laugh, that have made me proud, that have driven me to distraction.

I imagine God doing something similar, cherishing his memories of you, exchanging stories about you with the angels. I wonder whether you can, too?

 

Advent day 12 (2020)

 

 

People of God: be glad!

Your God delights in you,

giving you joy for sadness

and turning the dark to light.

Be strong in hope therefore;

for your God comes to save.

You are God’s children.

Lord, make us one in the love of Christ

today and for ever.

Amen.

 

Be strong in hope therefore;

Earlier this year, I injured my knee while running. A friend sent me some knee-strengthening exercises, that could aid recovery and reduce the risk of future injury. I really ought to try them. It is a valid question to ask, do I want to recover enough to do the exercises, or will I simply keep ‘hoping for the best’? though it must be kept in mind that ‘wanting it more’ or ‘try harder!’ has its limits: I am glad, also, for those who do not give up encouraging me, who have hope—as opposed to wishful thinking—of real change.

Like bodies, in order for our hope to be strong, it needs exercising; and exercise is always more enjoyable [literally, producing joy] in community. What exercises have you found strengthen your hope in the God who comes to save? And who are you exercising hope with?  

 

Advent day 11 (2020)

 

 

People of God: be glad!

Your God delights in you,

giving you joy for sadness

and turning the dark to light.

Be strong in hope therefore;

for your God comes to save.

You are God’s children.

Lord, make us one in the love of Christ

today and for ever.

Amen.

 

You are God’s children.

My children are all home for Christmas. I love them, but it can be hard at times. And love is both possible (indeed, only possible) and hard at times because we are equals. Were we not equals, I could be condescending towards them, and they could fear or admire me; but love, love must be freely given and freely received, shared between equal persons. Not, necessarily, equal in responsibility—as the parent, I shoulder more responsibility, and, one day, my children might shoulder greater responsibility for me—but equal in essential being. This is true of parents and children, whether the child is descended from the parent, or adopted…or, indeed, begotten not made.

You are God’s children. And Jesus, the Son, came into the world, equal to us, his sisters and brothers, that we might be equal to God. That we might share in Love. And when he comes again, we shall know this, fully. Advent, then, is the Season to practice knowing what we can hardly dare to believe.

 

(For a fuller and more eloquent reflection on this, see here.)

 

Advent day 10 (2020)

 

 

People of God: be glad!

Your God delights in you,

giving you joy for sadness

and turning the dark to light.

Be strong in hope therefore;

for your God comes to save.

You are God’s children.

Lord, make us one in the love of Christ

today and for ever.

Amen.

 

Joy for sadness. Turning the dark to light.

There’s a heart-breaking thing that English people do in times of sadness: they say of their circumstances, “Well, you just have to remember, there’s others who are worse off.” It sounds pious, but it is a false and empty humility, producing neither any compassion for those others, nor even a shred of self-compassion. We all experience sadness, darkness; at times unbearable, either because it is universally beyond bearing alone (say, the death of a child) or because it is a small thing that happens to be the straw that breaks the camel’s back.

The hope of Advent is not that God will exempt us from life in the fullness of its reality, but that the Sovereign Lord of the Universe has decreed and still upholds that the world keep turning, from night to new day, from sadness to joy.

 

Advent day 9 (2020)

 

People of God: be glad!

Your God delights in you,

giving you joy for sadness

and turning the dark to light.

Be strong in hope therefore;

for your God comes to save.

You are God’s children.

Lord, make us one in the love of Christ

today and for ever.

Amen.

 

God delights in you.

It seems to me that delight is an old-fashioned word, or out-of-fashion, an experience we have allowed ourselves to feel awkward around, like an adolescent who does not know what to make of their newly gangly limbs. A friend tells us that they have had good news from their oncologist, and we say, “I’m delighted for you!” and—don’t get me wrong—we mean it—100%—but it quickly passes. Unless we cultivate it, allow it to shape our outlook, our very being. Keeping us childlike in a cynical world.

What causes you to experience delight? Your team winning a big game? Discovering a new book by a favourite author? Waking up to frost on the lawn? Meeting your grandchild for the first time?

In all such moments, God delights with you. More, God delights in you.